McMercy Week
by ZanKyger
Summary: Assortment of drabbles that may or may not connect to one another in relation to McMercy
1. Day 1: Golden Years

**Goodbyes**

It takes hours for her to calm down, an agonizing eternity for Jesse as he tries to talk sense into her over his leaving. That he can't stay here and _choose_ between a good man and the man who saved his life. Between duty and what is now his family. When she's finally calm enough she looks at him, pleading with eyes now puffy and red with clear signs of crying.

 _Hell if it ain't the worst Angie like this_. He muses over the thought of consoling her, muttering sweet words and nothings that he'd simply been too hasty. That he would spend another night, another _week_ thinking it over. He won't do that, she knows he won't do that. Jesse had always been a man that put action before thought, and if he was actually planning on getting a move on then there's nothing that even she could do to stop that.

But he's still here with her and his feet are planted firmly on the ground. Or rather they're kicked up with his legs currently supporting the rest of her as she leans against him there. It's his quarters, his bunk, and his hands currently running through locks of blonde hair. Slipping beneath silky strands of gold and watching as his tanned fingers are lost in its silky sea. Eventually the discontented quiet is too much to bear, he's the first to break the silence since he'd talked her down from his revelation.

"Come with me," he begins. He can feel her stiffen beneath his touch and at his words. He takes her lapse in speech as invitation to continue. "You an' me, get our things together now so we can take one of the transports before early light. Drop it off where they can find it, though not too close that they can stop us when they do." His words are enticing. Full of a rebellious youthfulness that she had not seen in him since his younger days. Since he had been a scrawny young man picked up from a canyon in the South-West United States.

It almost makes her smile at the absurdity of it all. Almost. "Jesse, you know as well as I do that I cannot do that. It would be irresponsible for me to leave everyone here for anything should the worst arise. Not even for you mein liebster." Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, as he looks at her. It's a brave front, one he's seen her put on when Ana died.

The cool, comforting texture of her palm against his cheek is certainly a nice touch to it though. Makes him breathe out something of a half laugh. One that sputters out and dies halfway through its conception.

"Of course, reckon I ought t've seen it comin'." There's a bitterness underlying his words. One she picks up on almost immediately.

"I am doing what's _right_ by staying." She's quick to defend her ideals, sure she never did get along with the militaristic property of the organization but the true ideology and purpose of it was to make the world a better place, was it not?

"Right by who? You or Morrison." Jealousy festers beneath the previous forced laughs. Spiteful in their regard he loses himself to a slip of the tongue. She's silent after that. It's grown painfully quiet after he's said his words. He tries to coax a bit more from her, he _can't_ let it end like this. "Angie, darlin'..."

She responds this time, slower than before and she had been thinking about it for some time. "This is goodbye isn't it?"

She isn't looking at him as she says those words. He'd long since stopped running fingers through her hair, she won't notice if he fakes it now will she? _No, he needs to tell her it isn't. He needs to tell her he'll be back someday._ He can't promise her that, hell he can't even promise if he'll be making it out of the base alive when he tries to leave.

When Angela finally looks up at him she finds his eyes closed. "Jesse?" She inquires but he doesn't respond, asleep as she thinks with his chest rising and falling evenly. The motion smooth and steady it isn't long before she seeks to join him, though it is only then that his eyes open. He waits for several minutes, for her to properly enter a deep sleep before gently coaxing her arm from where it had draped itself across his person. Slipping out from her grasp it takes everything he's got to not lie back with her, take that side in what he knows to be an upcoming civil war within Overwatch.

He'd fight to keep that peace she wants. He'd fight for _her_ above all else. So why does he run? Why does he let himself run away into that dark night without a second thought? All he can do it promise himself that it isn't going to be a goodbye, not for good at least. He never was good at saying it after all.


	2. Day 2: Post-Recall

**Reacquainting**

If Angela Ziegler could use a single word to describe the rate things had been going at since the RECALL initiative had been activated "busy" would almost certainly take the win in her rich vocabulary. As it happens she had been busying herself with a particularly fussy patient, one who had been ever eager to leave the care of her clinic since they first arrived. Speaking of which.

"Miss Oxton... _Lena._ Just where is it you think you're going." Agitation, though minor, caused a lilt in the Swiss doctor's accent to make itself better-known. Despite her time speaking English having spanned over two decades of practice not even the great Doctor Ziegler was immune to such things when she edged on emotional.

"It was just a scratch, _really_ , why I'm feeling better already can't imagine there's a need to keep going. It's a right terrible bother it is." Antsy and far less accustomed to sitting in one place for long Tracer attempts to once more dart passed the steadfast physician. It's met with said doctor's body blocking the only escape from her clinic.

"Doctor's orders now I don't want to repeat myself when it comes to ensuring my patients' safety." An immovable object if there ever was one, Lena could only breath out a sigh in defeat. Just about to concede she's stricken silent by something, or more precisely _someone_ in particular.

As it is at this time that a sound fills the halls of the Watchpoint. One that certainly has not graced it for the better part of a decade as the 'jingle-jangle' of spurs echoes off metal walls. A wafting scent of gunsmoke and tobacco follows as a flash of red and yellow falls into view right behind the doctor's back. Lips set into a lazy smile as tanned digits pluck at the brim of a worn hat.

Just as quickly as it is tipped so do the same digits tap beneath it to push it right back into place as honey brown eyes stare down at the two there. "Evenin' ladies, ain't interruptin' anything now am I?" A matured face both familiar and entirely foreign greets them as the words spill from his lips.

Of the aforementioned ladies one is currently in a state of pure exuberant surprise as she almost _cheers_ at another of the old guard's return, already shooting her mouth off about how good it is to see him. The other is silent in her own state of shock. Memories and emotions flood to the surface only to wind up quelled and suppressed as she keeps up her air of professionalism.

"Did you just get here? Who else _knows_? Of course they all need to know, you sit here and keep the doc busy I'll be back in a jiffy!" Before Angela could even bring herself out of her own state of surprise and follow what it had been that Lena was stating the girl was gone and she likely wouldn't be returning as quickly as she claimed.

An uncomfortable silence fills the space between them both once the speedster had fled. It lasts almost an eternity as neither quite looks the other in the eyes. One never quite regarding the other fully before she makes the first move, her words filling the vacuum between them both. "McCree, just what are you doing here?"

She can see it in his features, weathered and rough as they may have gotten he seemed to have winced with the way she addressed him. Colder than she had been speaking with Lena moments prior and a far cry from how she had spoken to him when he decided to run. "Well, I _was_ told I needed to see a lady about an updated physical evaluation. See if I ain't just fit as a fiddle an' mission ready when they need me here."

"I see. I suppose that is for the best, come in then and please remove your hat and anything else that will get in the way of the procedure." Her door is shut behind him and she moves to gather up what she'll need to conduct the tests. Never once batting an eye at him her tone even and far from playful. If he was hoping to pick things up where they had left off on that night he had another thing coming.

He's topless when she finishes gathering what she needs. Always a fast worker in this regard she can see he's even flexing a bit with how his posture is maintained. Still trying to impress at this point? The man in as incorrigible as ever and she can't quite help to let the barest ghost of a smile grace the corners of her lips though she finally pays attention to the _state_ his body is in and her mood sours.

"You look as though you've been cobbled back together from other men with all these cuts and stitches, McCree." Again using a more impersonal method of speaking to him even when showing a mild sense of worry in his condition.

"Take it that it won't much make things better if I tell you that you ought to see the other fella?" A quirk of a brow and that lazy grin does shift into something more wry as he asks it. The look on her face makes it falter and he breaks eye contact immediately. "Yeah I thought as much…" Her stance on violence the same as ever and as an unsanctioned rogue element to find out he had been getting into trouble did little to uplift her spirits.

As her eyes continued to dart across the myriad of former bullet wounds and the remnants of what were likely deep gashes across forearms and his abdomen her eyes fall to rest on the unsightly section of metal affixed to his elbow. Taking up the space his left arm ought to be in. "What happened _here_?" Her accent slips into the way she says it, her jaw setting as it doesn't seem to be a gauntlet slipped over skin. Scarring running over the skin and just above where the brachialis connects with the antebrachium.

Her hand almost reaches out to touch the spot, prove her suspicions right though she can't bring herself to do so. She hesitates and if he notices he doesn't act on it. Rather he raises his arm up, flexing metal digits as his attention moves to the limb. "Suppose it'd wind up comin' up sooner or later. Lost it sometime after I'd left, job gone bad an' I wasn't quite able to save the limb, sorry to say." The laugh that he exhales rings a bitter chord while his attention is on the prosthesis.

Angela all the while watches the object with disdain. Ugly jealousy festers in her chest, just beneath the heart. _He had gone to someone else to fix him._ It had been the first thing to come to mind with something such as this, he sought out aid from another when she had been fully capable of building a sturdier replacement if not _saving_ the limb in its entirety. Her teeth sink into the flesh of her bottom lip as if to quell the caustic feelings that continued to run rampant inside. Her facade teetering on the edge of crumbling as this continued to go on.

"No doubt due to your own recklessness, if you had been more careful perhaps you wouldn't have found yourself in such an unfavorable situation in the first place."

"Makin' it sound like I'm lookin' for trouble now." Looking at her once again he was quick to retort this time.

"Only because you have this incredible talent of winding up in the mess of things." He was certainly trying her patience now wasn't he? Mouthing off like this so easily, so casually? Acting as though nothing had happened.

"I'm tellin' you it ain't nothin' too bad. Jus' a scra— "

"Don't you _dare_ say it's nothing but a scratch, _Jesse McCree_ , _don't you dare!_ " She had never intended to raise her voice to the degree she had but it's now far too late to correct herself. The floodgates had broken and all the bottled up emotions she'd kept just poured out. "You have _always_ been like this. Acting as you please, pretending consequence will never reach you when it can and _has!_ I mean look at you, your body is a map of wounds and you've lost your _arm_."

The exasperation in her tone couples with the sheer frustration of having to deal with this man, with Jesse McCree. It ultimately culminates into her pressing her forehead in against the center of his chest. Fist balled and with its underside affixed to his shoulder as if it will do him harm. The other holds a grip on the unfeeling metal of his left limb, squeezing it as if to find any sort of give it may hold. Anything to connect it to the limb lost rather than keeping it this unfamiliar stiffness she now must acquaint herself with.

She doesn't cry, she's shed far too many tears over the loss of her lover and that of a commanding officer she regarded in some paternal manner all in close proximity to one another. Now she's simply tired, so very tired and he's still able to radiate that similar comforting warmth that he had been able to those years ago. How she loathes and appreciates its proximity at the moment.

As if able to pick up on her feeling towards it his hand, the one that still remained flesh and blood and human, did reach out. Petting against the back of her head in as comforting a manner as he could. "Reckon I ought to start things off with an apology then, for the worryin' among _other_ things."

She chokes out a forced laugh at his words, how easy he makes it sound. "What makes you think I will accept such words so easily?" And yet she remained as close to him as she had been for some time. Head bowed and pressed against his solid frame. The sudden rumble of his chest as a warm and throaty chuckle escaped him disturbed what peace she'd held.

"Seein' as I wasn't chased out by you after showin' my mug 'round here proves that you're at least holdin' out a bit of a soft spot for me here. Ain't that right?" How dare this man try to show confidence in his standing with her after all that.

What's more how dare he be right in that very regard.

"Hmm," the noise she let loose behind closed lips did little to hide her feelings now. "In a manner of speaking, it would have been rude to kick you out when you have just come back home is all."

"That mean I'm actually _welcome_ back home now?" She can practically hear the brow of his quirking as he asks that.

Of course it takes everything she has not to let the smile creep into the tone of her reply. "We shall see about that now won't we?" Pulling away from his chest at that she lets the faintest traces of her smile continue to linger as she stares into that now grizzled face of his.

A face both familiar and entirely foreign to herself.


	3. Day 3: Intimacy

**Mornings**

Bleary-eyed and groggy the faint scent of clean linens catches Jesse in the early moments of his arousal from sleep. Still he could not see he realized, as the filtered streams of light ran through curtains that hid bulletproof material of the Watchpoint's windows he realized he wasn't exactly alone. Not by any means if the comfortable and all too familiar weight of his companion here meant anything. Still asleep he'd taken note of as the gentle and steady breathing on her part continued to resound almost inaudibly.

Angela had as it turned out taken his right side for herself. Greedy wasn't she? He couldn't help but look down at her with a bit of a wry grin as sheets slipped from the otherwise pale nature of her body. He'd need to move at some point, even if this wasn't at all an unfavorable position. Gently coaxing her out from slumber seemed as good as any a thing to do right now and so he brought up the palm of his prosthetic limb, gently letting it fall to rest along the slight curve of her cheek. His thumb tracing lines of fatigue beneath her eyes that she really should take care of. Looking at them all the more closely he contemplated pulling away to let her catch up on the rest she deserved.

Unfortunately it had been enough to draw out a subdued mumble on her part following another exhale. Brows knitting for a split second as he nose scrunched up. Stiffness from slumber being brushed off as plush lips did part to let loose a yawn, one he regarded as a symphony of sweetness he'd only wish he could prolong. His own lips pulled back into a broader grin as those blue doe-eyes of hers fluttered open, looking out at him from where she lay along over his arm and resting in against the crook of his neck.

"Well now, looks to me like sleepin' beauty over here's finally gotten up. Ain't even in need of her prince's kiss this time neither." She still seemed fixated on rubbing what remained of sleep from her eyes with one hand as he spoke.

"Very rude," she began, her hand finishing up clearing her eyes of sleep moves to rest across his broad chest. Pushing down against it as she tries to prop herself up a bit more. "To think I would have liked to be awoken as such too, I dare say the "prince" of mine is the one missing out if anything." While she tries to sound passive of it all the teasing little smile that plays on her lips says otherwise.

"Ohoh? Well that ain't sayin' it can't happen after all. Who's to say one isn't on its way to the beauty here after all that fussin'." He tries to join her in pushing himself up though winds up halted by the slight weight she applies to his front. She moves to straddle him in the same motion, he's ultimately fine with this development.

"Uh-uh. The dear prince has lost his chance, liebe." Settling down as she presses her body all the closer to his own her hands slide along his collar. Fingertips brushing over his throat to cradle his jaw against her palms within seconds. Smooth and precise digits running through the prickly scruff adorned over his face. "You really _should_ shave soon, it's becoming rather unruly Jesse."

"Aww darlin', here I was thinkin' it made me look mighty distinguished." His eyes never leaving her throughout the transition she took in pressing close to himself he could not help the feeling of anticipation that claimed him as his heart hammered in his chest. Even after all these years she still had this effect on him.

"Be that as it may it certainly makes it more difficult to do _this_ ," she started speaking before leaning in to secure his lips with her own. It was chaster than usual though that didn't mean it was over immediately. Lasting just a few moments before she pulled back a half inch. "Without feeling it tickle ever so much. It makes it difficult to give what the "prince" of mine missed out on."

The analogy has certainly outlived its stay but he found it endearing the way she clung to it so he didn't press it to stop. "Well if the beauty here'd be so kind I can't imagine him complainin' for more y'know?"

She rolls her eyes for a moment before giving her head a slight shake. "You are incorrigible…" Though that didn't mean she wouldn't follow through with his request to say the least.


	4. Day 4: Comfort

**Alone**

Jesse is gone, has been for some time. No, that isn't to say he's dead or anything of the sort! Angela would never forgive herself if she was unable to prevent something such as that, no he was simply on a mission. Winston had assigned him and a few of the other more experienced members to handle something related to reconnaissance and looking into what might be a potential Talon operation. Nothing more nothing less.

With the keywords regarding it being "discreet" and "careful" it had meant abandoning the usual cowboy garb for something sleeker, more akin to his old garb when he'd followed Reyes' commands. Back in the Blackwatch days that is though he was a far different man now than he'd been then he still made it work much to her irritation when she'd found out he'd be leaving so soon; after all was a moment longer with her dear cowboy so much to ask?

He did of course keep his hat, he'd never go anywhere without _that_ of all things. The spurs and chaps and flannel he'd dress in were set aside in the room ready for his return while he'd gone away, his serape however was her prize and her's alone. Draped around herself she'd settle in against the softness of the fabric even if it was rougher than the usual linens she'd have around herself.

It smelled like him, like Jesse, and right now that was enough for her even if it did little to sate the need for _more_. The dull ache and worry that accompanied not being able to properly watch over anyone when she wasn't on the mission roster. Made to wait and sit on her haunches for those here… Though she could never complain with that, it's simply the tenseness of the situation wracking over her nerves, they're all capable and able to handle themselves. _Some_ of them, a particular man more than others, had been on their own some number of years since the disbandment.

They would get through this, she believed in them to do so… And yet here she was, finding solace in the worn crimson fabric of her absent cowboy. Drawn across her shoulders as she laid back, cheek pressed in against crimson and yellow patterns that ran across it. How long had she been doing this for? Losing herself in longing for another; had it been minutes or maybe hours? Tossing and turning among the sea of red that surrounded her. The messy ponytail that had been usually kept in place when she manned the medical bay had become undone and lay strewn over her features as eyes fluttered shut in content.

 _It was not the same but it would certainly suffice._ She had thought as much, letting the moments tick by until once more disturbed. This disturbance came in the form of an opening door, a slight cascade of light from the Watchpoint halls, and the warm chuckle that emanated from the room's intruder. The room's owner. This disturbance was a welcome one though as calloused and rough digits palmed her cheek in a gentle caress, one she'd happily lean into.

Her cowboy had come home.


	5. Day 5: Alternate Universe

**Beastly**

The man known as Jesse McCree came to the sprawling township seeking a cure for his ailment. Their wondrous blood proving to do the job of miracles and increasing one's longevity made it all the more sought after than even the most precious of gems! But he was in dire need as so many others had been, collapsing before the steps of their healing church where he would have thought his tale done.

Only that had not been the case, awakening in a medical ward of sorts. Tarps hanging overhead keeping him isolated from what he'd assume to be others though it was a sweet sound that had drawn his attention more than anything else. The voice of some heavenly being he'd assume in a form made physical as healer garbed in white made her way within.

That was how he met Angela Ziegler of the healing church and it was the day his life had changed.

It was not long after that he'd made a full recovery, any and all traces of his disease having vanished from his body and it was at this that he had been offered a place in their fair city. To be more exact it was his angel that gave him the choice, one he'd accepted without hesitation. He'd take up arms and adorn the attire of black that those who'd protect the church kept to, sanctioned and official in carrying out their duty.

He would protect the house that healed him, he would protect its walls and those within, and most importantly he would keep his angel safe and sound… But like most things in life this too was not to last. The blood that healed many was tainted with plague. A malicious sort of thing that ate at one from the inside, that changed them into something more than what they had been before.

What worried him most though? Was that he could feel it gnawing away, eating at him from the inside out. Every moment he'd been in proximity with his angel his eyes would linger on her, on her throat. The prospect of sweet crimson ichor within parching his throat with a need to sate this unending thirst. He'd hold back on it though his duty and devotion to the woman being so overwhelmingly powerful that he kept his senses. His wits sharp but dulling, deteriorating faster than he'd like to admit.

That is of course what brings one to the situation at hand now. This man that had been clad in the black garb of the church now knelt before her. Stiripped to his trousers and boots before this saint in white. Blue eyes scanning across his tanned back as his head remained bowed with his messy mop of brown splaying out against the floor. He was shaking, fearful, seeking help from her once again, and just as before she had welcomed him in with open arms.

"Dear hunter do not cower below. Rise will you not?" Accented words lulled him in towards herself, a hand propping up against the seat she'd taken while the other kept to her thigh. He'd try to stand but he found his legs unresponsive. Looking towards her apologetically she showed him nothing akin to scorn but rather the same kindness she continued to let shine from herself. Gentle pale digits brushing aside unruly brown locks before it settled proper against his cheek.

"Pl… ease. Run, run I— it ain't safe." Words forced themselves out from his lips as she'd insist on keeping him where he was. She'd need to be kept safe from any and all that would do her harm. And right now that may very well mean him.

"I will not abandon you herr Jesse, you will not turn under my protection." She could feel him flinch beneath her touch. She knew of his affliction, though he shouldn't be surprised. It isn't long until the strongest fall beneath their own might and he was no exception at this time. But he wouldn't become like them. Again she pet his cheek and in turn he'd let out a pitiable whimper.

Over time the hand that clung to her and the seat tightened its grip. Poking at her with nails that did begin to elongate, her audible and low hiss of pain all that alerted him to the sensation overtaking her. He was quick to pull his hands back to try and retreat. "See, I knew it, knew I'd wind up doin' somethin' like that."

Panicked he shot up, leaned himself back and away. In the light that flooded in through open windows of her private hall she could see his visage marred with hair and fangs and claws. A monstrous sight as he cowered back with claws clenched and digging into his palms drawing tainted blood. He was turning fast and wasn't sure how much longer he could force it back; watching her with predatory eyes and at the same time those eyes were filled with longing. Honeyed brown and piercing yellow as a ragged gasp drew from his throat.

He'd collapse to the ground again in pain as spasms rocked his entire being to the core. Clasping at his head he howled out in unparalleled pain and anguish over the continuation of his transformation. Choked back sobs and pleas for her to stay away left him when he could muster up the sounds for words let alone properly give them shape.

What was his angel doing all the while? The healing church's dearest saint? She stood from where she had been sitting and drew back to retrieve an instrument from the wall. Primitive and perhaps even medieval in its design it was a tool of the church nonetheless. A knout with metal barbs adorned at its tips laid out loosely in her grasp while eyeing the man-turned-beast. "Settle dear hunter, you are not to become like those you fight just yet."

Kind eyes scanned across the surface of skin again, icey blues looking across skin and fur as he'd claw against the stone floor. "I will keep you as you are, I will keep you here with me as you so desired." He was her hunter after all. No one, not even this plague, would be taking him from her. She'd force sanity back into him, anything to keep him with her. With that her arm pulled back to hold the tool high and above either of them. Poised to attack she lashed out with it, drawing deep tracks of red as it bit into his flesh, tearing in deep as he howled out aloud.

This was of course but the first strike, the heel of darkened leather boots adding pressure below the newfound injury as she gave another. Staining untouched flesh and fur in tandem as he was whipped once again. Cries of rage and confusion echoing between whimpers of pain as his angel delivered her retribution onto him. The flagellation continued for some time until his writhing settled and his breathing evened out. She once again sat but it was beside him on the floor when she did so.

"Hunter, good hunter, can you hear me?" The palm of her hand pressed across raw flesh that had already begun knitting itself back together. Another dosage of her treatment would be needed far sooner than she previously surmised. The glove adorning the appendage now holding red that seeped into the pristine white. "I am here to treat you and keep you close, but you too must be willing to continue."

It was slow to start, breathing coming to a steady-enough pattern as he swallowed again as a voice both his own and different drew from a fanged maw. "Y… es, loud an' clear." The twang of his accent ringing in his words, drawing a smile back to her lips at the results. "I— I ain't done just yet… Jus' lemme—"

"I think not, you have endured much and are earned your rest." Her tone was firm and unbending as she'd scold him. Sure he'd struggle to prop himself up but she gently applied some pressure to his neck, keeping him down with his head against her lap. Eventually he'd comply and lay where she suggested. "Ruhe solange du noch kannst, mein Jäger." Eventually he would. Beastly and deformed to put it lightly but still the same man who she'd care for.

And as the atmosphere of her chamber shifted to something akin to calm, serene even in some humorous way as she held onto her beastly hunter, she could not deny the twisted feeling in her stomach that did so sour the sweet expression on her features. A gnarled pair of wings acting as parody of the angelic, twisted and matted and so very wrong. Poking out from beneath the back of her church attire for none but herself to see.

She was not immune either to this plague, it did little in discrimination though there was no need to worry her hunter with such details. He has already dealt with enough tonight.

* * *

As I've gotten a question about the translation of Angela's words they are "Rest while you can, my hunter". Note I do not speak German myself I simply asked someone I know who does


	6. Day 6: Domestic

**Visiting Hours**

Noisy. That was certainly a word to describe it, the machine that often signified the arrival of someone in particular. The man had unruly brown hair that seemed in need of a cut and with a look about him that just screamed his profession as a grease monkey. But what was he doing out here at this time? Disturbing the peace of the county hospital with his engine's continuous rumble. The heartbeat of some wild beast coinciding with his own as he sat back for a smoke upon it. Despite the clear warnings for not doing so and the likelihood of spreading around the carcinogens he seemed defiant of it all.

A newer colleague to the chief of medicine, Angela Ziegler, made their opinion quite clear, their nose upturned and a scoff echoing out of their throat. "Who does he think he is? Disrupting the peace with that eyesore? Can you believe that?"

Their expression incredulous as they practically looked pleading when regarding Dr. Ziegler. She in turn looked at her with a cool sort of sereneness that had been acquired through almost a decade of practice and many sleepless evenings. "Mm, yes he certainly seems the sort to act outlandishly doesn't he?" She doesn't regard it much more than that for a moment, continuing to sign off on a form she had been handed moments before by a nurse. "But it is unlikely that his mind will easily be swayed." Ah, she'd need to dot that I for certain.

"You're saying this isn't the first time he's done that? Can't we— can't we call the police on him? What if he brings some "friends" and they cause trouble?" They were perhaps making this a bigger deal than it needed to be. But Angela could understand where their worry had stemmed from, she was an intern once all those years ago.

"Such little opinion of him already?" She glances up from her work for once, the slightest ghost of a smile directed towards him as he continued to wait with his engine rumbling right outside. "He strikes me as… Far too much of a sweetheart to go as far as to do something so malicious." A chortle left her lips, one that seemed to tell more than she was willing to let slip at the current moment. The hint was lost to the other unfortunately.

"Security then? Best to keep it local than make this such a big thing? God what's he gonna do, wait out there until he's developed a need to be treated with all those cigarettes…" They had begun fidgeting with their own pen and clipboard albeit nervously and without much purpose. It was at that moment that Dr. Ziegler had decided on handing her own towards her, moving right towards the entrance to the hospital with what the other assumed to be a different purpose. "Ah! You're going to tell them off? Do you need any backup he seems like the type not to take no for an answ— "

"No, nothing like that. However could you bring that towards the Nurse's station for me? I'm already late for lunch as is and I don't want to keep him waiting for any longer than I need to."

"...What?" Was all that could be let out by the other there as they watched Angela greet the man with an affectionate peck to the cheek before chiding them on their nasty habit. But their problem was indeed handled as the biker took off from the parking lot, with Dr. Ziegler riding right behind him of course.


	7. Day 7: After Battle

**Drowsiness**

The echoing footfall of boots, heels, and anything in between, not at all excluding the imposing stomps of one military grade MEKA unit, did resound within the body of the VTOL craft. After the grueling mission they'd undergone it wasn't much of a surprise to see the agents slinking off to their respective corners on board, whether it was tinkering with their machinery or taking up piloting the eyesore of a transport (as Lena often wound up doing). Though McCree had on his part stolen a spot right beside Angela on the cushions. Reclining back he noted she was more interested in the passing landscape that could be seen through the windowed hatch nearby.

"Penny for your thoughts there, darlin'? Here I was saunterin' over to keep a certain _someone_ company an' they ain't even takin' notice to it. Why I'm feelin' a touch hurt here, wounded even." Bringing up the back of his hand he can't help but let it slide across his brow as if he were to faint.

Angela for her part could not help the giggle that drew passed her lips. " _Jesse_ , you are absolutely the most ridiculous man I've ever known." Her elbow playfully nudges in against his side and he can't help his own throaty chuckle from being let out either. His arm slinging across her shoulder a bit as he draws her in just a bit more. Something she doesn't at all seem too opposed to despite the openness of the display.

"Now that doesn't sound much like a bad thing to me, an' you know? I haven't heard all that many complaints outside your own." The grin that began to play on his lips hinted at something more teasing though he never quite pressed it as anything else.

"Perhaps they're simply being mindful not to offend, we wouldn't want our dearest gunslinger teased too badly for his endearing antics." She reaches out with her free hand, pinches his cheek, and then of course loses that hand to the gentle grip of his other. Worn and rough fingers drawing across the underside of her palm before giving it an affectionate squeeze. She watches them for a moment before adjusting her hand's position in his hold, lacing fingers between his. "Though I'm willing to concede my opinion at the moment, it isn't much of the time to argue anyway…"

Her words drift just a bit as she lets more of her weight fall against the gunslinger. He doesn't mind, doesn't protest, doesn't even make a sound of discomfort despite the way one of her wings digs in against an area the armor of his doesn't quite cover either. Well, okay, maybe he'd just gently adjust where it was pushing in against and— oh that's _instant relief right there._ Still that moment aside he doesn't stop her from leaning in where she pleases, one of his hands brushing against the loose strands of hair that fall out of place, she'd certainly worked hard today. Kept the lot of them alive on more than one occasion, she really deserved the rest she desired here and he wasn't about to muck that up for her.

His own eyes did grow a bit heavy he noted, but he kept them open long enough as she muttered out a single question this time around. "Promise you won't be gone if I fall asleep again?" It was something he hadn't been expecting, hell it hurt just the slightest bit but he could see why she might have said it. Every bit of fatigue crashing down upon her the way it was he'd be saying something without thinking either… He owed her a reply nonetheless.

"Course not, plannin' on keepin' myself nestled close as long as you'll have me." To drive the point home his hand gave her own another soft squeeze. Out of the corner of his eye he could swear he saw her smile more, though he might just be seeing things.

She didn't seem to reply after that, and in a matter of moments he found himself drifting off just as she had been. To any watching the pair settle on the couch for the trip back none dared to disturb their current rest, and who could blame them really?

It was high time something good came from all the constant struggles and strife.


End file.
